The Position 3 (6 page)

Lazarus paces a few times, wild animal style, then he turns quickly and strides back to the car. He climbs inside and closes the door. His eyes are still inky and strange, but he’s calm.
 

“Let’s go.”
 

The cabbie hesitates, and then pulls onto the street again. I watch Lazarus with curiosity and confusion, but say nothing. He’s staring blankly ahead. He looks dazed, lost. Hopeless. Finally, he turns to look at me. His eyes slowly warm back to amber. They’re full of regret.
 

“That was Celestina.”
 

I gape at him. Celestina. Of course. The jealous fiancée. I suppose to her I really am a whore.
 

“She had your phone?”
 

He looks out the window and shakes his head. “No wonder I couldn’t find it that night. I had to go to a dinner meeting without it.” He turns to face me again and puts a tender hand on my face. “God, Mickey. How awful you must’ve felt. I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m sorry.”
 

The feeling is overwhelming. He didn’t reject me. He never called me a whore. Everything that last happened between us still stands, completely unblemished. In fact, he was jealous of Chance. Violently jealous. He still wants me.

My mind is racing and my heart flutters in my chest. I flash to that amazing moment in the janitor’s closet. The feel of his body. His hands on me. His mouth. Oh my God, his mouth. I want it again. I want all of him again. Before I know it I’ve thrown myself into his arms and press my lips against his. They’re soft and warm, and they open to me. For the first time ever, we’re kissing.
 

Lazarus’s breath trembles as he plunges his hands into my hair. I can feel his heart pounding powerfully in his chest. My hands press against him, eager to feel the firmness of his body. His hands are on my neck, my face. There’s no tentativeness in this kiss. It’s deep and breathy and hot and it sets my whole body on fire. When one of his hands slides over my breast I groan into his mouth. God yes. Touch me. Touch me everywhere.
 

I forget about the driver. I forget about everything. I throw a leg over Lazarus and straddle his lap. He exhales deeply as I press my core against his bulging erection. His hands grab my ass and squeeze.
 

His mouth lowers to my neck. “Oh, God, Mickey.”
 

“Hey! Love birds! Hey!”
 

It takes us both a moment to realize the cab driver is shouting at us. I pull back, dizzy.
 

“Take it inside!”
 

I realize we’re parked in front of my apartment building and the man is watching us in the rear view. Embarrassed, I scuttle out of the car while Lazarus fishes out his wallet and hands over several bills. Before the door closes I hear the driver laugh loudly and call out to Lazarus.
 

“All’s well that end’s well, right, pal?”
 

Chapter Ten

The climb up the stairs is surreal and strange. My head is swimming and my heart races. Lazarus’s hand is warm and strong, and it grips mine possessively. Like he’s mine.
Like he’s mine.
 

“Does Celestina know about me, then?” I ask, even though I’m afraid it’ll kill the mood. I can’t lie. I want him to myself. I don’t care about hurting Celestina. I don’t care about her at all. In fact, I think I hate her.

Lazarus is silent. When I glance at him his face is grave. Then he clears his throat. “No. Not really. She can’t know about you.”
 

“But she called me whore. She must suspect something.”
 

Lazarus sighs. “Just that you’re a potential…interloper.”
 

I stop on the landing and turn to face him. “Your chippy on the side.”
 

He cocks his head. “How’s that?”
 

“I’m your chippy on the side. That’s what I am. The girl you go to for…,” in spite of myself, I blush, “kinky stuff in the office or… sex in the janitor’s closet.”

Lazarus stares at me. His eyes cloud with…what is it? Guilt? “Mickey, no…”
 

“It’s fine. Whatever. I just want to know my place.” It is not fine, though. Not fine at all. “Come on.” I turn and continue up the stairs, pulling him along behind me.
 

I fish out my keys and unlock the door to my apartment, hoping it isn’t too much of a mess. So much has happened since I left, I honestly can’t remember. Lazarus is stony silent, his sculpted jaw tense. Suddenly, I catch a vague whiff of his cologne, or at least I imagine I do. His smell. It’s intoxicating. I turn and lift my eyes to him. I know they’re doe-eyed and dopey and full of young lust. But I can’t help it. I am dopey and lusty. Lazarus gives me a wistful smile.
 

He puts his hands on my cheeks and gazes down into my eyes, like he’s searching for something. Then he leans in and presses his soft lips to mine. It’s tender. Unbelievably tender. I never knew Jude Lazarus could be tender to anyone. Then the kiss deepens. It sends tendrils of heat through my body. My breathing speeds up. I push my fingers through his hair, and it’s thick and soft and stiff with product in places.
 

Before I know it, I’m off my feet, cradled in Lazarus’s arms. He opens the door and carries me inside, then kicks it closed with his foot.
 

“The bedroom,” he breathes into the dark silence. “Where’s the bedroom?”
 

“Straight and to the right,” I mutter impatiently.
 

My skin tingles all over anticipating his touch. The core of me already throbs with pressure. I don’t care who I am to him. His trinket. His twinkie. His whore. Fuck it. I realize that now. I’ll do anything and be anything just to have him touch me.
 

Lazarus stumbles through the dark, nearly tripping over a pair of shoes in the middle of the room. But he’s a man on a mission and he manages to find the half open door to my bedroom, which he pushes with his back. Street light pours through the slats of the blinds, illuminating the unmade bed, blankets and sheets kicked to the edges.
 

He practically throws me onto the mattress, then immediately crawls on top of me. The weight of his firm body on mine makes me pant with desire. We fit together like a glove. It feels right. It feels natural. Almost as if together our bodies complete each other.
 

He hovers over me, propped up on his arms, gazing down at me again. His amber eyes are gray in the dim light. He lets out a sigh. “If you only knew…”
 

I wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. “If I only knew what?”
 

He shakes his head. “How much I’ve thought about you.”
 

My heart wants to burst open, but I’m afraid to let it. Don’t get sucked in. It’s too messy. You’ll get hurt. Fuck that. You’ll get clobbered. I don’t respond. Instead I reach down and slide my fingers over the beautiful bulge in his pants and gently squeeze. It catches him by surprise. He gasps.

I smile. I’ve never felt one before. Ever. It’s firm and long, straining against the buttons of his trousers. My hand presses into it, strokes it over the fabric, follows its contours. Lazarus’s breath accelerates. I want to see it. To feel it. To taste it. As I fumble with the buttons, he watches me, frozen. I manage to open his fly and can make out the black band of his boxer-briefs. God, he’s sexy. I slide my hand over the cotton fabric, traveling between his legs, feeling for his testicles. Balls. They do feel like balls. But hot and soft. I fondle them through his underwear, cupping them in my hand and teasing with my fingers.
 

Lazarus moans. His eyes close and his head tilts back. I can feel his arms trembling. And then I do it. I slip my hand into the waistband. We meet at last. His member is smooth, amazingly smooth. I run my fingertips over the surface, exploring. He begins to pant. When I wrap my hand around it and gently slide up and back, he moans again, even louder.
 

“God, what is it about you?” His voice trembles.

Good question. Surely a lot of women have held this in their hands. Touched it in every possible way. Put it every place under the sun. Why is he going to pieces over this? But I don’t care. I’m not done exploring.

It throbs in my hand. But I want to see it. I push him over so that he collapses on the bed and rolls onto his back in a daze. He’s under my spell.
He
is under
my
spell. His heavy breathing fills the room as I gently pull it free. It springs straight up in the air like a saluting soldier. So hard! So ready! So gorgeous! I take it in my hand again and let my thumb run over the softest skin at the tip. Lazarus arches his back with a grunt. I grip it and stroke up and back several times, watching how he responds. His mouth opens, his panting grows louder. He’s so beautiful. The power of his pleasure penetrates me completely and I feel like I’m going to combust.
 

Greedily, I lean low and take it into my mouth, sucking gently at the tip. Lazarus gasps and growls like a wild animal. Then he reaches down and gently pushes me away.

“Not yet. I don’t want it to be over yet.”
 

I raise my eyebrows, pleased with myself. “Really? You’re that close? Already?”
 

“See what you’ve done to me?” he whispers. “You’re going to drive me insane.”

He sits up and pulls me into his arms, collapsing onto his back again. For a moment we lay still as he tries to catch his breath.

I smile again. He kisses me again, long and deep. His hand slides over my breasts, feeling their shape. I begin to fall under his spell. He slowly undoes the buttons, pushing the fabric aside. In an instant he’s unfastened the clasp of my bra. It springs open and his hand eagerly cups my bare breast. I moan into his mouth. The pressure mounts between my legs. He pinches my nipple and rolls it between his fingers. Holy fuck.
 

He breaks the kiss and his lips fall onto my neck. I shudder with pleasure. He makes his way up to my ear and then whispers, “We have all night.”
 

Chapter Eleven

It’s different doing this with him in the dark. Not a sudden conflagration like in the janitor’s closet or the office, which was always unexpected and felt extremely naughty. This is more like smoldering embers slowly catching fire. We’re on a bed. My bed. And there’s no one around to hear us or stop us. It’s just Lazarus and me. And this time, we’re taking it slow.
 

His breath is hot in my ear as his teeth bite my lobe. Then he pulls it into his mouth very carefully, sucking. I feel a burst of dampness between my legs. Holy shit! My ear is an erotic trigger point. Who knew? Then his tongue prods into my ear, sliding over the folds and hidden skin. Double holy shit! Already I’m writhing on the bed.
 

I quickly unbutton his shirt so I can press my hands against his hot, smooth chest. It’s so firm and strong. I feel it rise and fall with his deep breaths. Lazarus descends to my neck again. Again, his teeth graze my skin and he softly bites into the flesh.
 

“Oh, God!” I don’t even recognize my voice, so husky and thick with pleasure.
 

His tongue glides over my skin, down to the dip of my clavicle. He stops to bite at the tender spot between my neck and my shoulder. Pow! I cry out again. What the hell? How does this guy know about these spots? What other undiscovered pleasure points do I have? Find them! Teach me! I want to set fire to this bed!
 

When his head continues south I realize I’m holding my breath. He runs his nose over my right breast, nudging gently at the nipple. I arch my back, my body begging for it. His hand cups the left one and squeezes.
 

He exhales loudly. “Your breasts. I can’t stop thinking about your breasts.”
 

His tongue traces a hot, slippery trail all over the right breast, following its swell, dipping underneath where a hundred thousand nerves are hiding. It’s feels so amazing that it’s practically torture. My pelvis is rocking desperately, constantly, against thin air. My moans are turning into cries. I never want it to end. I want to be tortured until I burst into flames.
 

Then his mouth slips over my nipple, soft and wet. He suckles. It’s crazy. The sensations are indescribable. I’m going crazy. Then his tongue glides over the hard, pink nub, flicks at it, licks, suckles again. I’m losing control. My body is thrashing beneath him. This nipple was made for your mouth! I think. Your mouth should never be anywhere but on this nipple. Forever. This is where it belongs.
 

Just when I think I can’t feel any wilder, he moves over to the left breast. He takes his time, leaving not a square inch of skin unlicked before tormenting that nipple. His tongue flicks over it and he sucks hard this time, teeth grazing the tip. I feel like I’m going to lose consciousness. Then, all of a sudden, Lazarus pulls back. I pant and squeeze my thighs together, trying not to lose my mind. Then I realize he’s watching me. I instantly blush.
 

“God, you’re sexy,” he mumbles, his voice low.
 

I stare up at him, lost. Completely his slave. But no words come.
 

“Can I ask you a question?” He shifts onto his side and rests his head on his elbow. His eyes look dark and mysterious in the streetlight. The sculpted features of his face are softened. Perfect.
 

I nod.
 

“How many men have you been with?”
 

I blink up at him. “In what way?”
 

“You know what way. How many?”
 

I sigh and look away, wondering if it’s a mistake to divulge the truth. But it wouldn’t be right to lie to him. He’d figure it out anyway.

“None,” I practically whisper. “You’re the first.”
 

I feel his eyes burning into me but I’m afraid to look at him. He’s very quiet. At last I force myself to meet his gaze.